My Fate, I Will Change

Above the clouds, the dense darkness seemed to have been pushed aside by someone's own hand. Blazing, dazzling beams of white light shone down, accompanied by an overwhelmingly powerful pressure that sent a chill down everyone's spine.

Before long, the darkness vanished completely. Countless beams of white light blotted out the formerly blue sky, turning it into a vast expanse of white brilliance.

The experts fleeing in all directions looked up one after another, but the white light was so glaring that they could barely open their eyes. Once they finally adjusted to its radiance, every face changed.

The King who had first noticed the change in the sky was already charging madly outward, fleeing with all his might.

Only he had seen first that what emerged from the darkness was not white light at all, but ice-cold sharp swords. Every blade bared its razor edge, blooming with such searing radiance. Each sword made his heart nearly stop beating; just one of them was enough to fill him with terror. He had the overwhelming feeling that if he confronted one head-on, he would be the one to die in an instant.

What drove him to collapse and flee outward so desperately was this alone: the dense white lights filling the sky were all sharp swords. One sword was enough to take his life. If these countless swords came down, even a hundred or a thousand lives would not be enough for him to die with.

Run—run like mad!

That was the last thought in the King's mind.

Yet the swords in the sky clearly gave him no such chance, nor did they give anyone else present one. With a sharp whoosh, ten thousand swords fired at once. All the white lights fell like meteors, and in an instant, sword rain